You Mess With My Mom, You Get Me!

A few days ago I wrote about the issue at the Nursing Home with the TV in my Mom's room which belongs to her roommate.  I had a suspicion the problem was being generated by the daughter of the roommate.  Today my suspicion was confirmed.  Apparently the daughter had to buy a new TV because the screen of the first TV went out.  She attributed it to the fact the TV was used too much.  Funny thing .....She did this before my Mom was even there!    Today when I walked in to Mom's room, the TV was moved at an angle away from Mom's side of the room.  ARE YOU KIDDING ME!  Words cannot convey how pissed I was.  What a pompous little bitch (the daughter, not the roommate).  I can say that with certainty because I have met her.  I couldn't decide what kind of person she was in the brief three times that I had talked to her before all this hoopla, but there always seemed to be incongruity between her words and her actions.  I guess my instincts were correct.

This whole issue is so ridiculous my brain can't process it.  All I know is she is messing with my Mom.  Nobody messes with my Mother and gets away with it.  How can someone be so cruel to a 90 year old woman.  I never said anything when the roommates belongings encroached on my Mom's side of the room or when she got in to Mom's candy.  It really didn't matter.  Today it mattered and I turned into a stubborn 10 year old.  I measured the floor space and found the middle of the room.  Everything of hers that was on Mom's side was pushed over.  I'm going to rearrange the room (I have to get permission from Social Service first) so Mom won't even have to look in the direction of her roommates TV.  It's gonna be awesome when both TV's are on different channels with the volume up.

I know I should let it go and be adult about it; and I will in time.  But this is my Mother we are talking about.  My sweet never hurt a fly, give you the shirt off her back, Mother.  Every time I think about it I want to put my boot in daughter's ass.

Most people reading this are aware that my Mother is in a Nursing Home (which I hate).  She's seems to be doing well with their care.  I have my doubts at times, but I have to admit I try not to see the bad things.  They are short staffed just like everywhere which really sucks since their business is to "take care of" the infirmed.  Isn't that what you call an oxymoron?  I will say they do call anytime there is an issue; which I know is a requirement by law, but it makes them accountable.

I got a call yesterday. (My heart sinks a little every time they call because I never know if it's going to be bad news.)  The nurse proceeds to tell me that she thinks I should get a TV for Mom.  She was apparently watching her roommates and the aides went to turn it off and she yelled at them not to.  To back track a little, I didn't get Mom a TV when she first moved in because her TV was an old model and very large (space is limited).  Plus the roommate has at least a 32" flat screen placed right in the middle of the room.  There isn't really an issue of fighting about what to watch, because I don't think either of them care.  It's just company.  I figured if I brought in a TV for Mom it would be crazy loud and she wouldn't be able to work it anyway.  Since the large TV was there I didn't see the harm in her watching it.  I am assuming Mom's roommates daughter is behind this.  She actually put a note on the TV that states: "Turn off the TV if Irene is not in the room".  Underlying meaning:  don't let the roommate watch her TV.  Doesn't this seem a little petty? Or am I being too sensitive?  Uuuuuuugh, drama at the Nursing Home. 

I will get Mom a TV....anything to make her happy.  All I can say is her roommate better keep her damn hands out of my Mother's candy.  How's that for petty!

Life & .....

Aging sucks for man as well as beast. Poor Bear! Bear is 16 which is like 112 in people years?? He's deaf, blind, incontinent, shaggy, has nubs for teeth, stands lopsided, coughs all the time, and has a bad heart. He still however; gets up to greet whoever enters the garage. He also still patrols as the ever vigilant watch dog, even though most of the time his nemesis happens to be a moving branch on a tree.

I took him to the vet today because his cough is getting worse. I told the vet I needed some guidance as to what to do. I don't want him to be in pain, but I don't think he is ready to give up yet. The vet assured me he wasn't suffering. That made me feel better. The vet adjusted his meds and I came home with my shaggy, blind, deaf and feeble dog.

The day that Bear stops chasing the chickens (chasing as in taking two steps toward them and falling down) that is the day I'll know he's done. For my sake I hope to find him dead of natural causes curled up in his cardboard dog house. I can't bear the thought of being the one to take away his final breath by lethal injection. I've watched people die before; and that's terrible enough. I watched Joe's Golden Retriever; Al, be put down and that was devastating (poor Al). While I know euthanasia for animals is mostly a humane thing, it's still unnatural and it's bothersome.

I don't like being in this holding pattern of life and death. I certainly don't mean to compare animal life to human life as being on equal ground. While I have compassion and respect for animal life, I would choose a human life over an animal any day of the week.

I'm in the middle of typing and I just get a call from the nursing home where my Mom is. When I see the number on the caller ID I brace myself a bit, not knowing what I will hear when I pick up the phone. As long as I don't answer, everything is still ok. All that can change after I say "hello". This call wasn't about my Mom, it was about Joe's Mom. Dreama will be a new resident of the nursing home this afternoon. She had a stroke last week and is no longer able to live in the assisted living facility that she has lived in for upwards of 8 years (maybe more). The paperwork needs to be done for her admission. I am now pretty much an expert on elder care paperwork after stumbling through it with my Mom. I don't know if Dreama knows yet that she is going to be a permanent resident of the nursing home. She will not be happy (who would). She is a little more vocal about her feeling than my Mom, so I am a little scared. Not that I'm afraid of Dreama, I'm afraid that she will not do well. She is used to being around her friends and being social. She unfortunately will be more isolated at the nursing home especially since she cannot get around on her own. My Mom on the other hand actually did better when she went to the nursing home because she went from being isolated in her room at the assisted living place to having more people around all the time.

I don't really like this time of my life. It feels so unsettling. There is such a huge spectrum of issues and emotions; from birth to death.

I know what Bryan will say: "Mom, don't forget your sayings!" You're right Bryan. I will "Embrace The Journey" and take it one day at a time.

Squeaky Wheel

The saying about the squeeky wheel getting oiled must be true. I went to see Mom this evening and install the chair brace that I made. She was in the dining room, but I went to her room first. Lo and behold Someone had put velcro pads under each foot of the chair and wedged a board between the wall and the chair. It's a Christmas miracle! They actually listened. A few of the other items that I requested were taken care of as well. I will happily continue to assume the bitch role if that is what it takes to get things done.

I went to the dining room to visit with Mom for awhile. There was another daughter visiting her mother at Mom's table as well. We were having a nice visit and conversation until............one of the ladies at the table went off on a paranoid tangent. She started out by asking myself and the other daughter if we had been invited to be at the table. I giggled a little and told her that I was there visiting my mother. She glared at me and says: "what are you laughing about!?" She continued on by accusing us of stealing from her. She told Mom: "you better watch yourself". Luckily Mom is enough hearing impaired that she didn't know what was going on; although a couple of times during this womans disertation I heard Mom laugh. She then attempted to engage the 4th woman at the table in the conversation by asking her if she was involved in the conspiracy too. That poor woman was oblvious as well. She couldn't hear well either and she just responded by telling us why she wasn't eating. Then she started asking everyone if they had a car, because she wanted a ride home. I wanted to go home by that time too. Funny but sad. Just another typical day at the 'ol nursing home.

What The Heck Is That Noise?

Imagine fingernails across a chalkboard, a spoon scraping the sides of a Styrofoam cup, and grinding teeth. Not pleasant sounds; downright annoying. Now imagine the subtle squeak of a rocking chair; back and forth, back and forth.....squeek..squeek...squeek..squeek. Even though it is a "noise", it's rhythmic nature could lull you to sleep. Think about a mother rocking her baby, or your Grandmother rocking on the front porch of the 'ol homestead.

Now....put the squeaking noise together with an annoying circumstance and you get a little old lady grinding her teeth and making a noise that sounds like a squeaky rocking chair (wood rubbing against wood).

Bryan and I were visiting Mom yesterday. It was dinnertime so we took her to the dining room. The meal hadn't been served yet so Bryan and I sat at the table with her for awhile. We began hearing the above stated noise. A constant and rhythmic squeak. "What is that noise Bryan?" "I don't know!" "It's coming from that lady over there." "No way, it sounds like it's coming from the table behind her." "No Mom, look! the noise comes every time she moves her jaw." "There is no way that noise is coming out of a human mouth." "Watch her!" "I see, but I can't believe she can make that loud of a noise with such little movement of her jaw. It still sounds like it's coming from behind her. She must be a ventriloquist and she's throwing her voice." Bryan was pretty sure she was her grinding her teeth. I was still not convinced. I'd never heard anything like that before. All doubts were erased when one of the residents asked an aide about the noise. The aide confirmed that it was indeed her teeth. Amazing! Bryan figured that she's probably done it for so long that she has worn her teeth down to smooth nubs that could easily glide across each other producing that specific tone. Squeaking is ok coming from an old rocking chair, but not from an old lady.

I asked Mom if that noise was annoying to her? She says: "what noise?"

Life On The Inside

I got a call from the nursing home. Judy the Social Services Director says: "Do you have a minute?" I'm thinking "SHIT, what is going on????" "Sure, what's up?" I hear: sssscccczzzzfound cccczzzzssssknife zzzzzcccccssssMom's ssssccczzzroom. "Wait Judy I have to change phones I can't hear you very well. Did she just say something about a knife? "Ok, now I can hear you, what did you say?" "We found a couple pair of scissors and a knife in your Mom's room and we can't have that here." What the hell? Is Mom planning on overpowering the aides and making a break for it? Or is she planning on shanking her roommate for a pack of cigarettes? Or worse yet, do they have a zero tolerance policy on weapons and now they are going to expel her? (Think fast Patti you have to get her out of this.) "They aren't hers Judy, they are mine." "Ok then, I'll have them in the office and you can pick them up the next time you visit."

The scissors were there just because she had them at her other place in a cup with pens and pencils. I'm pretty sure the knife in question is actually a letter opener. It never occurred to me that they would be considered contraband. I'm just wondering who ratted her out to the warden??????

R*E*S*P*E*C*T

Another interesting day at the 'ol nursing home. I just realized tonight that I've only seen two men as residents since we moved Mom in, which probably substantiates the claim that women outlive men. Sorry guys. Although it may not be a bad thing guys because you miss out on the interesting dementia behavior that seems to befall most 80 somethings. I visited Mom after 6pm this evening. I had forgotten about a little syndrome known as "sundowner's." Some people with dementia have a heightening of their symptoms at night. Other people who don't exhibit symptoms of dementia during the day will experience them at night. There seemed to be a sundowner's convention this evening. I was stopped by 3 ladies in the hall all trying to find their way to their rooms. Ruth was pacing and smoothing the wallpaper as she went. Lois was carrying her belongings in a basket trying to find a place to put them. Lois is the same lady that keeps trying to get into Mom's bed. Fortunately she hasn't tried when Mom was in it. I felt like I was in a movie. I stood at the end of the hall and watched this seemingly deliberate behavior but knowing in my mind that there was nothing deliberate about it. It's painful to watch, and it's hard to know how painful emotionally it is for them because they cannot clearly verbalize their inner feelings. I like to think that they are happily oblivious as to their state of mind.

Tonight is shower night. I got the wrinkled nose look from Mom. She doesn't like the shower. It has too many rooms and you have to run like hell to get out of there when your done. So she says. I really would like to see her run like hell. I tried to convince her to grin and bear it because it was a necessity, all the while thinking that I would hate it too. I had the aides show me the shower room. It's probably a step up from a prison shower. At least it has a curtain. The loss of control one must feel in that situation must be unbearable.

Patti's TOTD #13: Treat your elders with the respect they deserve. They aren't being slow just to piss you off. Keep in mind at all times that you too will be in their shoes one day. Most importantly don't talk down to them. They aren't idiots, they are old and probably wiser than you will ever be.

PS: Joe gives this a thumbs up.

Pray For Meeeeeee

I've been moving Mom's stuff from Kingston a little bit at a time. Mainly because I don't know what to do with it. I've downsized her things twice now but there is still a lot of stuff. I came across this cute little box. I opened it and found 50 or so small strips of paper with names on them. I remembered she told me one time that it is a prayer box. I'm not sure if it's like a raffle and you pick a name and that's who you pray for, or if by virtue of your name being in the box you're guaranteed a prayer. I think it's the latter. I started reading all of the names. Some of the people I didn't know, but most of them were relatives. She had the names of all of her kids and grand kids and spouses and great grand kids. Julie and her family and Lorrie and Brian. Everyone was covered. I was getting a little worried though because as I was reaching the bottom of the box I hadn't found one with my name on it. Does she think I am perfect and I don't need prayers or does she think I'm so far gone it wouldn't do any good to pray for me? She had Shane and Dina in there twice. What does that mean? I was relieved as I retrieved my name from the pile. It said: Joe, Patti and.......Ellie. Yes, she even prays for Ellie! How sweet is that! I'm learning a lot about my Mom by going through her belongings. She kind, generous, loving and a bit of a pack rat.

Acceptance

I never know what I will see or hear when I go to visit Mom. It's like the unpredictability of a child. You never know what a kid will say or do and it's the same with my new friends at the nursing home. My first encounter yesterday was with one of my lost friends from the other day. I'll call her Marge. (I'll have to find out her name.) Marge is in the hallway and she reaches her hand out to me. I naturally reached out and took her hand. I had a flash back of a lady at the nursing home where my grandparents were years ago. She would reach out her hand and try to grab you and bite you. Thankfully Marge didn't try to bite me. Marge says; "Help me! I'm stuck here and I need to get out. My son-in-law and daughter put me here to die. Help me!" How do you respond to that? One would think that my training as a nurse would prepare me for that kind of encounter. It's hard to give a rational response to an irrational question. I told her I was sorry she was upset, but I was not sure what I can do for her. She says; "If you don't do something I'm doomed!" The nurses were completely ignoring our encounter leaving me to fend for myself. I squeezed her hand and told her it would be ok and then I just had to walk away. Awkward and uncomfortable??? YES, very. I saw her later and she was smiling. More than likely she doesn't even remember our exchange. I continued on my adventure and went to the dining room to find Mom. There she was amongst the sea of silver heads. It's funny, she always seems shocked to see me. Maybe it's because I've seen her everyday since she been there and before she moved it was only once a week. For some strange reason I find it easier to see her there. I dreaded visiting her at Kingston because it was hard to see her failing in her abilities. She started out there being able to walk around and socialize and ended up being confined to her wheel chair and recliner. I guess I was in denial and if I didn't see her, I didn't have to deal with it. Being in denial is like walking up a steep hill. It's hard work ignoring what needs to be done. You take a step and think; I can't go any farther. I don't want to go any farther. I'll just stay here at the bottom of the hill and be perfectly happy, all the while knowing that if you were at the top of the hill the hard part would be behind you and you could focus on what's in front of you. (Wow! I am so deep.) I think I may be nearing the top of the hill of acceptance. I know I can't change anything. I am done pitying myself. I am ready and willing to make this the happiest time possible for her. It's a process.

Back to my adventure. As I am sitting with Mom I hear some commotion at the next table of two. One of the ladies is yelling at my friend Ruth and I hear; "don't spit on the floor! It's not sanitary!" Like I said, you never know what you are going to hear.
Mom is a good eater, but a slow eater. She is usually the last one left in the dining room. There were about three residents and some aides left in the room when another resident came back in to the dining room. She wandered around a little and one of the aides asked her if she wanted to play the piano. The aide says; "we love to hear you play." I thought hmmm, maybe Mom can enjoy some nice music. She began to play and as I tried to figure out what song she was playing, I soon came to the realization that she played the piano like my grand kids do. She didn't pound the keys like they do. She had somewhat of a soft touch. When I looked at her she had a huge smile on her face. I could picture her as a three year old girl doing the same thing. I looked at Mom. There she was, furrowed brow and wrinkled nose. It's becoming her signature look of disgust. Bryan stopped by to visit, but he missed all of the fun. Good times, good times.

Day Number Four

Minor set back today. I walked in to Mom's room with more of her clothes and she looks at me and says: "Why are you bringing all that stuff? I'm leaving on Sunday!" "Who told you that?" "You did!" "No Mom your staying here now." "Forever?" "Yah." "Oh crap!" On the bright side though....I found her missing clothes. I routed through the laundry room myself and found them. I made some new friends today too. Ruth, Bernice and Betty. All of them at different times came up to me and told me they were lost. Aren't we all. Ruth is my favorite. She was disgusted that she didn't know where she was going but she laughed about it, then she leaned in close to my ear and said "Shit!" then she giggled. They trip me up though. I'll be talking to someone and it will be going along pretty good and then they tell me about the beaver that lives in their closet. It's hard to keep up. Mom's roommate scares me. If I get anywhere close to her side of the room she says: "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" It not what she says, but how she says it. Glaring at me with no expression and speaking very quickly in an accusatory tone. I tell her what I am doing and shes says: "WHY?" in the same gruff manner. Then that's it, end of conversation. She told the aide today she wanted candy. She didn't have any so Mom offered her some of her chocolates. I asked the aide if she could have some and she said no because Irene is diabetic. Irene says: "chocolate!" "I'm sorry Irene the aide said you can't have chocolate." "WHY?" "Because it may put you in a diabetic coma and you will die." I didn't really say that but I kind of wanted to. Actually she may be the best roommate for Mom because she is quiet,(most of the time) doesn't snore and she has an awesome 40" flat screen TV. I didn't take Mom's TV because Irene's TV is big enough for both of them to watch. The aides closed the curtain between the two beds to get Irene up and Mom says: "They pulled the curtain up too far I can't see the TV." I'm not sure she realizes that the TV belongs to Irene. I don't think I'm going to tell her either.

Day Number Three

Mom didn't hate it today! Allelujeh! She still doesn't like her bed though. She actually slept in her recliner last night. Gotta make a call see if I can get her a different bed.

Day Number Two

Second full day at the nursing home and Mom says; "I hate it!" That sucks, but if I remember correctly she said the same thing about Kingston. I realize there will be an adjustment period so I am not getting to bent out of shape over it. She can't really pinpoint anything specific as to what she hates. She says everyone treats her nice. I think she would tell me if they weren't. I am making myself known. Asking names and hanging notes. See I know how this works. I've never worked in a nursing home, but I've worked at Hospice home and in the hospital. When you have three shifts plus weekend shifts at some point you need to make an appearance during all of them. Stuff gets missed, some people don't care, and some get so busy they forget what you ask them. Case in point, she's already missing two pair of pants and a shirt and I am the one doing her laundry. Obviously someone didn't check her chart and ended up putting her clothes in the house laundry. I told anyone that I saw about the issue. I figure out of six or so people one of them is bound to follow through and find them. I'm not out to make enemies. On the contrary, I want to make friends. I want them to be happy to see me when I visit but understand that I expect a certain level of care for my Mama and I will be watching. The thing that bothers me the most is the age of all of the aides. Most of the ones I have seen so far are between 18 and 22ish. Most girls that age don't have a clue about the life experiences of a geriatric patient or how to treat them with dignity. They are all nice enough, but are they willing to get in and do the dirty work that is needed to properly care for someone that cannot do it themselves? I guess time will tell.
I took her lunch today and we sat outside. I brought her McDonalds. One thing that hasn't diminished is her appetite. She ate every last bit of a fish sandwich, fries and a strawberry shake. I thought she was going to suck the wax off of the paper cup. She did everything she could to get every last drop. She can't do much of anything so eating is a good pastitme. Hershey's bar with almonds is her favorite. I wish I could eat Hershey bars and strawberry shakes and be happy about it.

The Brighter Side Of Things.

Since "they" say that life is what you make it, I like to make it fun. I try to see the humor in everything or at least the bright side. Taking Mom to the nursing home yesterday was no exception. It was a hard day, but it wasn't without it's lighter moments. Some moments I just had to laugh or I would have cried. Mom is pretty quiet these days but she can still make me laugh. She has become a little opinionated and isn't afraid to share some of those thoughts. One of the nurses came to say goodbye to her and wish her well. The woman was no more than a few steps away when Mom says; "I think she wears the same shirt everyday." She also wasn't above telling me to "shut up" and "quit asking me questions, I don't have anything to say!" I was trying to get her to open up about her feeling but apparently she wasn't interested. Every time someone new would come into her room and introduce themselves she would greet them appropriately then as they were walking out of the room she would look at me and wrinkle her nose. I also learned an interesting fact. Mom has a boyfriend. She says; "He doesn't know I exist, but he's cute." She was teasing....I think? It will however; remain an unrequited love because she had to leave him behind at Kingston.

Then there was the lady in the bathrobe, night cap and orange crocs running around the nurses station. That is going to be me! Running around and not caring what anyone thinks. Next was the lady sitting in her wheelchair in the hall with the neck of her shirt pulled up over her face to the top of her head. At first I thought she was crying, then I realized she was coughing. That was one of those laugh moments so I didn't cry. My favorite lady was Mom's table mate at dinner. Her name is Virginia. She has a very nice smile and sweet look about her. I introduced myself and my Mom and we chatted a bit. I thought wow she seems really with it. Good for her! I noticed that she repeated herself a few times. No big deal. Then she said she forgot her purse. We looked around for it and I told her that she probably left it in her room. She says: "I don't know how I'm going to pay." "For what I ask?" "My meal." Oh dear, not so with it. She then proceeds to ask the aide to write her a bill and she would pay it later. That is if they trusted her for it. When the aide told her it was free, she was astounded. "FREE! I've never heard of such a thing. Where are we? Ruby Tuesdays? I've heard that some days they give out free meals!" I laughed out loud. It was the most pathetic, adorable thing I ever heard. Just ask Bryan, he was there. I think it left him speechless and wondering what it was going to be like when I'm 80. Good luck Bryan and Amanda. I'm pretty sure I'm gonna be a handful.

Hard Choices

Today I had one of those experiences that altered my senses and made me rethink the whole meaning of life. I moved Mom to a nursing home. It's one of those things that people with aging parents often think of, but never really grasp the gravity of until they actually have to do it. It is the single hardest thing I have ever done. Leaving her there this evening ripped my heart out of my chest. Neither the two LARGE glasses of wine or the hot fudge sundae did anything to console my broken spirit.
I've been to nursing homes before, lots of them. But I don't think that I really looked at the people or realized what it must be like for them. I looked at them today for the first time. Everyone in the dining room sitting there with a look in their eye as if they were seeing something not in front of them, but in another dimension. Some eating and some not. There was no conversation. Even the tables with four people sitting at it were silent. Everyone in their own little world. Maybe it's the control freak side of me, but I wanted to know what they were thinking. What if anything is behind those blank stares. Are they thinking; "it fucking sucks to be old but I'm too tired to scream," or are they so unaware of the fact that they are old and incapable of taking care of themselves that they are in an altered state of bliss? No more worries or responsibilities. I guess I won't know until I get there....or will I? There is no answer as to why after a vibrant life some people end up infirmed unable to attend to the most basic of needs. It's sad. It's even worst when it happens to someone you love. It's called the circle of life for a reason. We go out like we came in. Dependent on others to care for us. Except when we go out we're not as cute and a lot more wrinkly.
I have to keep reminding myself not to be selfish. Yeah it's hard for me, but it's not about me. It's about making Mom's time left on earth as happy as possible and being there for her like she's been there for me.